


Milk and Sugar

by brielle



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-01
Updated: 2013-02-01
Packaged: 2017-11-27 20:16:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/666073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brielle/pseuds/brielle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry is depressed and everything's begun to change. Louis comes along for the ride because of course.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Milk and Sugar

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a choppy little fic and please read it all the way through because if you find it boring in the beginning I think you might enjoy it once you reach the end. I kind of really like this one, so I hope you all do too! Please comment your opinions - all are welcome! xo  
> Disclaimer: This is completely fictional :(  
> Word Count:~2,000

"Society jus' sculpts people into what they need 'cause their own lives are so unfortunate," Harry's voice crinkles the silence and the darkness, breathing life. 

"And I get the heat of it, y'kno, being here. I'm jus' sculpted and scratched and fucked up and I don' really know if it's society or me anymore."

Louis listens to Harry's steady breathing, in 2-3, out 2-1 , and he knows he's practicing controlling it because that's what he's told to do. Harry's told to do lots of things. 

"It's all a bit fucked up," he finally settles on whispering back. But Harry's asleep or something nearby and so his opinions go unanswered. 

;

Harry stares at the wall for a good half hour and draws pictures in the darkness with his eyes. 

Louis is breathing heavy and steady so Harry says he's asleep and jumps right into it for the sake of it. 

"I just think that, y'kno I'm just off, y'kno. But like we're all a bit off and nobody really cares to do anything to help each other cause we're all right wankers." 

He tastes each word off his lip and his tongue flicks once, twice along. 

"I think you're proper mad but that's ari' cause you're my mate." 

Harry has to close his eyes to stop his racing heart because for gods sake Lou, I thought you were asleep. And really how could you respond with that can't you see nothing's alright. 

He ends up breathing out, finally, and closing his eyes because as it turns out half assed simple responses sit with him quite well. 

;

Tea wrappers crinkle under Lou's feet as he pads to his flatmates bed, and he knows it's a hard one because they always come with tea. Black with no milk or sugar, cold from being left and forgotten, staining the new tea mugs. 

Walls are so paper thin and Harry'd been shifting all night so Louis knows. And so he crawls in with him and how can a person be so cold when he's really so warm, and Louis has to shift the blankets off his body because he's sweating bullets. 

"I'm alone." 

Harry's voice is almost unheard, and when it is, it's unidentifiable because oh. Louis feels a shift and a body pressed close to his chest and so he drapes an arm across because what else can he do. 

And he just wants to shout that he's not alone, he's here, but how many fights have there been from this? 

Harry eventually stops shaking and Louis starts because really he doesn't know what to do. 

They fall asleep with empty hearts and a wet spot on both pillows. 

;

Harry finds a lady bug crawling along his bedspread at 3AM when Louis is long passed out. He grabs an empty water cup and pokes holes in a paper and traps the little thing. On top he writes Ladybug just to be sure that its known and sets it down on the bedside table. He falls asleep watching it crawl along and wonders if ladybugs feel like he does. 

Louis wakes up to a snoring body and a little red bug in a labeled cup and has to smile so he doesn't frown. 

; 

Harry locks himself in his room and sits on a half empty bed because Niall's left an hour ago and being by himself always complicates. 

He closes his eyes and tugs at his hair and in 2-3, out 2-1, but he's alone and so bad goes to worse. 

Louis comes home because doesn't he always and finds a locked door and empty bottles by the sink. He goes to bed without a second thought because oh, the simple minded. Harry listens to the soft closing door down the hall and thinks about how he's so alone and won't someone care. 

They fall asleep with one wet pillow, the other unused, and Louis two doors down. 

; 

Harry swallows the pill with a cup of tea, milk, one spoon sugar. He lies face to face with his flatmate and maybe he even smiles but it's oh so fast. 

"No more pints for now," Louis tries with a soft tone. He's read the label a good five times and if not, the doctors phone call was a good briefer too. 

"You'll have to have enough for the both of us, hm," Harry slides back in his low tones. Then he narrows his eyes and scrunches his nose up and if Louis heart doesn't flutter. 

Hours later Harrys dead to the world, and Louis wishes he had a camera for this night because it was something which is better than the nothing. 

;

"Really, there's so much false hope today and everyone's fooled because nobody knows it," Harry drones out to the ceiling. Or maybe he's talking to the stars beyond or something higher than that. A mug of untouched plain dark tea rests on the bedside table, probably leaving a permanent ring on the wood.

Louis's left hand searches through the tangle of sheets until it finds something warm and shaking, and he grabs it and squeezes it harder than he ever did before. 

Harry sighs big and long with a melodramatic fleeting thought "oh how the mighty have fallen."

"It had been a month and some days now, I really did start to believe y'kno," he whispers with a breath between each word. 

Louis squeezes again but is it enough, so he lets the familiar phrase tumble out of his mouth. 

"I know." 

And Harry squeezes back because no you don't know. But somewhere along the line you realize nobody knows and listening becomes the new knowing. 

;

Louis comes home with a firefly in a jar to three lads on his couch, a footy match on the TV, and a shut door down the hall. 

Where the hell is he, he asks, and they shrug their shoulders with their eyes on the telly. Louis shuts it off and kicks them out calling them a bunch of fucking twats. 

He finds his flatmate under his covers with a tear stained face and trembling lower lip. Harry cries into Louis's arms that night and falls asleep there too, tired and defeated. 

The firefly dies in its jar, forgotten. 

;

Harry is resting in Louis’ arms and the curtains are shut to keep the sunlight out. It seems to have become a habit; on the days when they don’t have signings or photo shoots or recording or concerts or practice (which seem to come rare and few now), the two stay shut up in the bedroom together, finding comfort in each other’s breath and soft voice. 

“Louis,” Harry sighs and is he asleep or awake? 

“Hmm?” Louis replies, nudging Harry’s chest with his nose, where he’s cuddled nice and warm.

Silence answers him and Louis figures that the other boy must be asleep and maybe he was imagining hearing his name after all. He shifts a little closer to the body heat, trying to trap it and keep it all to himself because he’s selfish when it comes to the curly haired boy, he’ll admit it.

“I love you.” 

Louis’ head snaps up because did he really just hear right? Time stops and his heart is the only thing he hears, or maybe it’s Harry’s heart, or is it both of theirs beating together? 

“Louis,” Harry calls out, louder and clearer then he’s spoken in a long time,” did you hear me?”

“No.” The older boy replies instantly and why did he say that? He’d heard him just fine the first time. Right?

“I love you. Really. I love you and I don’ care what anyone says ‘cause I’m done pretending. My life is fucking screwed up and there’s only one thing I’m sure about now and that’s you. I love you!”

“Stop.” Louis mutters, shuffling away from the voice, trying to cover his ears. What was going on, why was everything changing?

“No. I’m not gonna stop until you hear me,” Harry’s voice was gaining volume, nearing a shout now, “ I love you, Louis Tomlinson! I. Love. You!”

“Stop!” Louis cries, jumping out of the bed. A voice in his head was repeating his words, but directing them at himself. What was he doing? “Stop! Please!”

“Why?” Screams Harry, standing up on the other side of the bed, his heart was cracking into pieces and his mind had gone numb.

Louis shakes his head, and tries to walk out of the room. One foot in front of the other, eyes on the floor, don’t look back don’t look at the broken boy. But stop, stop, turn around, go back. Please! He made it past the door, he was gone down the hallway, nearly there. Pick up the keys, reach for the front door handle, leave, leave him behind. 

A hand catches his arm, wrapping around his wrist completely, a stern grip. 

“Louis,” a raspy voice whispers from behind him.

And then they were back. Back to reality, back to every screwed up night where Harry couldn’t sleep, couldn’t be the Harry the world posted on the covers of every magazine. The pain in his voice hit Louis deep and did his heart skip a beat, because he swore it stopped for a moment. The ladybug, the fireflies, the tears, the tea – and love. Louis froze in the grip, one hand gripping the door knob, the other limply by his side. He could feel electricity flowing through him from where Harry held him tight. 

Slowly, he turned around, and stared into those deep green eyes. Brimming tears made them shine under the fluorescent lighting and oh no, because there it is. Louis eyes widen and Harry smiled because he’s depressed not stupid and he knows that look because he gives it to the older boy every second of the day. 

“I love you, Lou,” Harry whispers again, a soft smile gracing his red lips. 

And Louis doesn’t have to respond right now, because both boys know what he would say. Louis takes his hand off the knob and it falls, making a soft thud against his thigh. He sighs because he’s scared and happy and maybe a little bit in shock but most of all he’s in love.

So Harry moves closer and brings both his large hands to hold Louis’ smaller ones. Their finger tips are tingling now, and they’re still moving closer closer closer until they stop. Faces inches apart the two boys stared into each other’s eyes, looking into their hearts and souls and seeing their reflections. Then Harry jerks forward and their lips meet and oh god if Louis doesn’t melt right now. He’s supposed to be the strong one, protecting Harry and keeping him safe; but how can he do that if he’s being torn apart by that very same boy right now? 

Their lips move in sync and Harry feels like he’s flying and it’s the first time he’s felt something amazing in months or maybe longer. Louis leans up on his toes, pressing into the taller boys chest and detangles their hands so he can wrap them around Harry’s neck, tangling his fingers into his unruly curls. 

The younger boy moans softly (which may or may not make Louis die a little bit) and he brings his arms to the smaller boys hips and pulls them towards his own so that they’re touching in every possible way now – their bodies mixing together, into one being. 

They pull apart, gasping for breath, pupils blown out and gripping each other harder not wanting to lose the electric connection flowing from one to another. 

“I love-,” Harry chokes out before Louis cuts him off with his own breathless voice.

“I do. Too, I mean. Love. Uh, you.” 

Harry laughs, and if it isn’t the most beautiful sound that Louis’ heard in the longest time. Good enough, decides the curly lad, and he just swoops down for another kiss, addicted to the feeling of being so close to Louis. Being the only one who has the privilege to touch this boys lips.

“So uhm, do you want tea, then?” Louis asks nervously because what else is there to say when your best mate tells you he loves you and then you realize that you’ve been blindly in love with him and his stupid curly hair and dumb raspy voice for probably forever.

“Yes please,” Harry sighs into Louis’ head as he rests his lips atop his feathery soft hair, “with milk and sugar.”

_end ___


End file.
